Into Peru

Current Location: Piura, Peru
Distance Cycled to Date: 12, 827 km
Flat Tires to Date: 44 (Keenan - 23, Jeff - 21)
Guinea Pigs Eaten to Date: 2

Easter Weekend was considerably different for Keenan and I this year. We left Latacunga after a day of rest from our tough climb up Mount Cotopaxi, and had a short day to the village of Mocha. After realising there was nowhere to stay in town we found ourselves with a problem. We were too far from Riobamba to make it for the night and everything is fenced off with no possibility to stealth camp. However, as we were searching for somewhere to ask to camp we saw a police station right in front of us, and the police officers immediately agreed we could camp there for the night. This was perfect for us, so with our accomodation out of the way we headed across the street to try an Andean specialty that Mocha is known for, guinea pig. We were both a bit apprehensive when our plates arrived - the whole animal, head, feet and all spread out for us. But our hunger quickly overcame any timidness and soon we were both devouring our dinner. We came to the conclusion it tasted something like a fish and a chicken, some bites being quite delicious actually. We cleaned the whole animal and left the restaurant glad we gave it a try and also with a bit of an empty stomach - guinea pigs just aren`t very big.

We left Mocha the following morning and rode along the Panamerican, until we branched off after Riobamba to make our way over the nearly 4000 m high pass. We made it close to 37oo m, before we decided to end for the day. It was quite cold and beginning to rain when we saw some big dirt piles just off the highway - perfect for a stealth spot for the night. We cooked out in the drizzle and then were in our tent very early, getting in a good sleep before the rest of the climb the following day.

We were up early and were rewarded with views of Mt. Chimborazo in the distance, the highest peak in Ecuador. We were feeling good, despite only having a few crackers for breakfast. We had an early start and quickly reached the summit. We were excited, our long 4000 m descent back to sea level was beginning! The road wound down the valley, clinging to the steep mountainside. However, very quickly we realized this was not the amazing descent we had imagined. At first the pavement was filled with potholes and gravel sections, but that soon gave way to only gravel. We were on our brakes nearly the entire time, gripping as hard as we could, needing only to stop and rest our sore hands. We went down and down, the clouds of dust from vehicles irritating our eyes and clinging to our sticky bodies. We averaged under 20km/h, which was frustrating as we lost so much elevation. But it was downhill, and we hardly had to pedal all day... so not all bad.

We pushed to make it to El Truinfo, and as the sun was setting we were left with little choice and ended on the outskirts of town at a Motel. It really wasn´t too bad and it had a shower. The shower felt great and I don`t think water has ever been so dirty after a shower in my life. While cooking our supper, we had left our SPOT messenger outside sending a gps ok signal to our parents, as we do every night. However, when we went back to get it after eating we had found it had dissappeared. The staff had no idea what had happened to it, and so we couldn`t really do anything. The ridiculous part is that it is useless to whoever stole it, as it only sends a signal all registered in our name to our contacts. So that was extremely unfortunate.

We left the following morning and rode to Guayaquil where we were meeting some friends of some friends we were put in contact with. Riding through the busy, chaotic city was a crazy experience, but we made it safely to their house and were glad we did. They treated us like family and we had a great time getting to know Juan, his wife Loy and their son Julian. We ended up spending a full 3 days relaxing in the comforts of their home. As well we were able to have our bikes looked at again and repaired. As we left Quito we had become less and less impressed with the job they had done there, but now they are back in good shape.

Leaving Guayaquil, we headed south to the coast and into Peru. The landscape has slowly changed from green crops lining the highway into a dusty, dry wasteland. The highway followed the coast for a time with views of the ocean as we made our way south. Now it´s turned inland leaving behind any sort of cool breeze and we are stuck with the sun beating down on us. It has been fairly flat though so we have been able to make good time, which is nice to do. The riding has been pretty boring the last few days with little to see, but dusty small towns with very little to eat. We really don`t know what people do for food here, as the stores seem to be stocked with only drinks and cookies. We`ve been forced to eat at some of the local restaurants, which isn`t too bad either considering for $2 you can get a big plate of rice, fried chicken and a little salad. Though that´s the only menu choice, at every single restaurant. It starts to get a little old.

We are now in Piura, staying in the city stocking up with supplies as we head out into a 215 km stretch of empty desert tomorrow. With a little luck we´ll cross it easily in two days, and then take another day off in Chiclayo for Keenan's birthday. Maybe we'll even stay in a hotel with hot water and a door on the bathroom. Just maybe. We'll let you know.

Climbing Cotopaxi (aka: The Hardest Day of Our Lives)

Current Location: Latacunga, Ecuador
Distance Cycled to Date: 11,923 km
Highest Elevation We've Been to Date: 5,897 m
Number that made the summit, of the 11 of us who climbed Mt. Cotopaxi: 5

Leaving Quito, we stumbled on a major road closed to vehicles, and full of cyclists only a block away from the house we had been living in for the two weeks prior. We had read that Quito has a cyclopaseo once every two weeks, a time when the city closes roads and creates a 25 km long bike trail along the length of the city. We had no idea when or where it was, but apparently it happens on Sunday mornings, and runs from our house to the southern edge of the city. And so while we had been prepared to fight traffic and battle our way out of the city as we usually need to do, we just enjoyed ourselves cycling with thousands of others, enjoying their free water stations every few kilometres!

We didn't really have much of a plan on what we would do in Ecuador, but on our second day after leaving Quito we passed through Latacunga, which we had read was a base for climbing Mt. Cotopaxi, Ecuador's second highest peak. We had been talking of doing some sort of mountaineering somewhere along the way, and decided we might as well check this one out. We knew practically nothing about the climb, except that our guidebook said it was a popular climb in Ecuador, and that if you were inexperienced climbing ice and snow that you would need a guide. Well, that didn't sound so bad, and so we found an tour operator that would rent us the equipment needed, and hire us a guide. When we entered the agency to ask them about the difficulty of the climb they told us being cyclists we were likely in fine shape and shouldn't have any problem. As well, since we had been in Quito at 2,800 m, the climb up to 5,897 m shouldn't affect us too much. Well great – it sounded like a fun, easy climb with spectacular views and a chance to get to use some stylish crampons and some sweet ice axes. Who wouldn't sign up for such an adventure?

The next morning we were being fitted into our gear in the shop, and while trying on our over-sized parkas and 3 layers of pants, we met two other Dutch travelers who would be doing the climb with us. Do you think you'll be able to make it to the summit? They asked us. Well, of course we would we thought. Why wouldn't we? Then they told us stories of others they had met who attempted the climb and had to stop short because of the intense difficult of the climb, and even of one girl who needed to have her guide undo her pants and hold her up while she went to the bathroom part way up, because she was so physically spent she was unable to do it herself. This concerned us a little bit, but still we thought being the fit cyclists we are we should be alright.

A couple hours later we arrived in the parking lot, and we all loaded up our backpacks with the supplies we would need for the night, and for the climb the next morning. It was only a 200 metre climb up to the refuge at 4,800 m, but even that short a climb left us a little breathless. The whole area was shrouded in fog, but for a minute the clouds parted and we were able to catch a glimpse of the snow-covered volcano towering about the refuge. It was a little bigger than we had thought...

We spent the afternoon and evening at the refuge with the rest of the travelers who would be attempting the climb the next morning. In total there were 11 of us – 4 European men who kept to themselves, and 7 of us who spent our time trading stories and having a great time getting to know each other. There was us, the Canadian cyclists who you all know so well, the two Dutch guys on a six week tour through Ecuador and Peru who were both doing their pilots training with KLM, the Canadian brother-sister team from Ontario who we greatly enjoyed getting to know, and then the one 40-something Polish lady who none of us could ever remember the name of. None of us had any experience climbing, but we all were very excited for the next day. We wanted to go to bed by 7 or so since we would be waking up at midnight to get ready to climb, but with the snow falling outside and the excitement in the air it felt too much like Christmas Eve, and we found it very difficult to break up such a fun gathering and go to bed.

At midnight, after getting little more than 2 hours of a restless sleep we got out of our bunks and started to dress for our adventure. Four layers of clothing later, we went downstairs and began our breakfast of yoghurt and granola, and despite the lack of sleep, talked excitedly with our new friends. I ate a few bowls of the delicious granola/yoghurt mix, but Jeff was already experiencing a weak stomach, likely the affects of the altitude and such a poor sleep. He managed to get a few spoonfuls of yoghurt down before we both were fitted with our harnesses and set out to conquer the mountain. We were the last team of 3 (the two of us, and our guide) to leave the refuge, and as we started shuffling up the snow-dusted trail behind our guide I thought, this is going to take forever! He was going so slow it seemed like it would be a frustrating climb. It didn't take too long until we reached the thicker snow where we put on our crampons and latched ourselves together with rope, and continued up the steep snow at our same pace.

As we slowly made our way up the clouds lifted, and we were able to see the majesty of the snow-capped peak in full. There was a nearly full moon and a star filled sky, and as we looked ahead we could see the rest of the teams with their headlamps lighting the snow around them, dotting the mountain above. It was here that we really could appreciate the grand scale of the mountain and our insignificant size relative to it. If we knew at this time how our vision would start to blur and how little we would be able to see or appreciate further up the mountain, we probably would have spent a few more minutes taking it all in.

From here on, we kept slowly trudging up the incredibly steep slope. Our guide in front, and us behind, roped together, in what was initially for safety but later became the only way to keep us moving. Our guide kept up his methodical pace, and the further we went the faster it seemed to become. It didn't matter how slow we were moving – it never seemed slow enough to catch our breath. Every time we stopped to rest both of us would collapse to the ground, our heads pounding and chests heaving, breathing harder than we had ever before. After a minute or two of this our guide would call out 'vamos', give the rope a tug, and we would fight off our feelings of nausea as best we could and continue on. Only a few hours into the climb, we passed the group of Europeans heading back down. At first we were excited by this sight, thinking it meant the summit was very close. However, we found out that they just were unable to complete the difficult climb.

For the first few hours of the climb we would leap-frog the other Canadians, and give each other a few words of encouragement as we passed, trying the best we could to stay positive in our exhausted state. It was amazing how much a simple fist pump or a 'you can do it' gave us an extra boost to keep going. Eventually our guide got the better of us and led us too far from the other group for them to catch us on our breaks, and we found ourselves alone, struggling up this massive peak.

After what seemed like forever, with both of us fighting our stomachs, Jeff's finally beat him and he fell over, covering the trail with his few spoonfuls of yoghurt, and anything else that had still been in his stomach. It didn't seem to be a big deal at all to our guide, and in fact, as Jeff was still kneeling on the ground, not sure if more was to come up, our guide gave the rope a tug and told us to keep moving again. He asked Jeff if he thought we could keep going, and after reassuring us it was only another 200 m or so, we decided to keep going. Jeff felt a bit better, and I managed to keep my stomach in check, and so we thought we were good to go for the last little leg.

Well, it turns out either our guide is a liar, or has perhaps just doesn't know his numbers in English. Later, on our way back down when we saw the Jeff's stained snow, we saw that at the time we were hardly even half way to the summit. From that point, the slope steepened, and we struggled mightily to make it up the 45 degree angle, having to use our ice axe to keep from falling backwards. We even came to an ice wall where we had to kick in the toes of our crampons and use our ice axe to pull ourselves up, eventually making it over the ice-wall. Had our heads not been pounding and had we been able to think clearly, we probably would have enjoyed this quite a bit, as the clouds were giving way to impressive views of ice and snow, and we likely looked like real mountain climbers.

At this point, we thought were just around the corner from the summit, and were ready to get our picture and get back down. However, this was not the case. We were disheartened to see the path descend down and around some impassable ice, losing elevation that we had never worked so hard to gain. Coming around a corner and up to what we thought must be the summit, we met the Dutch guys coming back down. They made it! We told them how Jeff had thrown up before, and they told us how just ahead we would see their own stains on the snow. Apparently the climb hadn't been any easier for them, but they assured us we were near the top, with only a little ways left to go. And so we kept going, with every step more difficult than the one before it. Our guide just kept going, his pace never changing, and us labouring behind. But then, just as we thought we couldn't go any more, we reached the top. He announced – this is it. We looked around and couldn't see anything besides white snow blending in to white clouds. But, it didn't seem like we could go any higher, and so we knew we were at the top. We collapsed to the ground (as we did anytime we stopped), and to celebrate pulled out a couple Ritz crackers. We took a couple pictures, and then our guide announced it was time to descend, and we were more than happy to comply.

We were given a quick lesson on our proper footwork for descending, and then started down the mountain. He kept calling out, first we thought to change our footwork, but then finally we realized he was just telling us to go faster. It seemed he wanted us to run down the mountain – it didn't seem to matter it was a nearly 45 degree angle on snow and ice – he told us since we were all tied together he could hold us if we started to fall down the slope. It turned out with our muscles as tired as they were, our legs were simply unable to go much faster. However, he still had the opportunity to demonstrate his ability at holding us, as both us of couldn't stay on our feet a number of times despite our slow speed. As we went down, we realized just how far we'd come. Even with all the clouds it was now light out, and we could appreciate the immensity of the climb. We had hoped that the lower we got the better we'd feel, but it turned out that wasn't the case. We still collapsed onto the ground with every (infrequent) break, and both nearly emptied our stomaches again.

The last few hundred metres to the refuge we slid down on our snowpants, using our ice axe as a brake. We were so thankful we didn't have to hike down any further, and normally this would have been great fun, but as we both just felt horrible we didn't appreciate it as we could have. Finally, after what seemed like forever, we made it back to the refuge and stumbled up the stairs to the bunks. We were greeted by the Dutch as they were lying in their beds, practically unable to move. “I should be in a hospital right now”, and “This is the worst I have ever felt in my life”, and “That was the hardest thing I have ever done” were statements that we were all making as we lay in our beds. The Canadians came a little while later, and we learned that Paul had thrown up a number of times as well. However, his sister seemed to fare the best out of all of us, still smiling and bright and chipper as the rest of us lay collapsed in our beds. We still don't know how she kept such a positive attitude throughout the climb, but we admire her for it.

As we were all lying in our bunks, one of the guides came up the stairs to tell us it was nearly time to go, and we had to pack up. Nobody moved. This happened two or three more times before any action occurred and we somehow managed to pack our bags and put our boots back on. The hike back down to the parking lot wasn't as bad as we had imagined, and we managed to get into our Land Cruiser and survive the drive back to Latacunga (with a plastic bag in hand, just in case).

We have had a lot of difficult days riding in the past 7 months. And we both are confident that not one was as physically demanding as this climb. It was our first real taste of high altitude, and we now know just how hard it makes things. All in all, climbing Cotopaxi was an experience. We're still not exactly sure how we feel about the whole thing – we both are fairly sure we wouldn't do it again, and yet, we are both very glad we did it.

As a completely unrelated sidenote - we finally got our Central America photo album online. We know, it's about time. Check it out here.

It's Go-Time, Our Time in Quito is Over.

Current Location: Latacunga, Ecuador
Number of World Cup Qualifying matches attended: 2
Total number of hours spent studying Spanish in Quito: 64
Total number of verb tenses learned: 6
Number of articles of clothing stained by mustard from attempted pickpockets: 4

Our week and half in Quito flew by, and while we had the intention of relaxing, it seemed that every day we were busy with something. Every morning we had 4 hours of one on one learning, and in our 8 days of classes we covered a bit more than a semester of university Spanish. We know this because both of us have taken a semester of university Spanish, and learned much more in our 8 days here in Quito. The highlight of school is of course the fieldtrips, and we enjoyed our tours of the Old City of Quito, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, as well as our hike up Mt. Pichincha, a 4,500 m peak that towers over Quito. We should admit, we took a cable-car most of the way up the mountain and really only hiked the last 400 m or so. It was our first experience at such an altitude (even Quito, at 2,800 m is noticeable) and we're looking forward to many more light-headed, heavy breathing experiences as we go on through South America.

We were lucky enough to get tickets to both the Ecuador vs. Brazil World Cup Qualifying match, as well as the Ecuador vs. Paraguay game. Both games were extremely exciting – some of the best soccer we've seen, with Ecuador outplaying their opponents badly in both games. However, both ended in 1-1 draws, and left the crowd a bit disappointed, and a little restless. Of course, it wouldn't be South American soccer without riot police having some participation, and the refs being pelted by a steady stream of bottles after the game.

We've had some pretty good luck with our bikes so far. Besides the rack bolt snapping back in Mexico, we had never even visited a bike shop except to change our rear brake pads back in San Diego, less than 4000 km into the trip. We just keep pedaling, and those Cannondales just keep chugging along. But, as we made our way up and down the steep hills of north-western Panama, my rear wheel started to get more and more wobbly. Not only that, but the smallest gears on the cassette started to turn independently of the wheel, which meant I was limited to only my easiest gears. The hub was definitely having problems, and we finally had to realize that we couldn't bike all the way to Argentina without having to fix something. And so here in Quito we found ourselves a well-stocked bike shop, and stopped in to see what they could do. We don't think they've seen many touring bikes, or even road bikes for that matter, but every staff member was very eager to help. They took apart the hub to see if it could be fixed, but saw just how shot the whole thing was. They found a new Shimano XT hub for me, changed all our brake pads, all our cables, our handlebar wrap, and lubed and cleaned everything to the point where our bikes look brand new again. And after all this, we paid only for the hub and a couple of the cables, despite a few hours of labour going into it and a few more parts involved. If you're in Quito and you need some tune-ups, we'd highly recommend Mario, and all the guys at Triatlon, on Ave Gral. Eloy Alfaro.

Of course, not all experiences can be great ones, and on our last day while sightseeing and taking pictures in the Old City of Quito, we were both victims of a popular pickpocketing attempt where somebody squirts a bunch of mustard on your clothes, and then 'helps' you wipe it off, meanwhile emptying your pockets. We had read about the trick before, and as soon as somebody pointed out the mustard we were on the defensive - and in addition, neither of us carry anything in our pockets anyway - but still, our one and only pair of pants, as well as one of the two t-shirts that we brought on the trip all had huge mustard globs, dripping all the way down to our shoes. We were not at all impressed. On getting home though, we were able to give everything one more wash and besides a faint stain on my pants, everything is alright. But still. Mustard? That's gross.

We've spent a good deal of time studying our guidebooks, maps, and reading other cyclists blogs and looking at their pictures to try to plan our route ahead. South America is a huge continent, full of amazing sites from top to bottom, and we're going to try to see as much of it as we can. It's been 2 weeks since we've been cycling, and we're both itching to get back on the road. It's been nice here in Quito – it's a very beautiful city – but we're both eager to see so much more that this continent has to offer.